


running through my head

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Derek, College Student Stiles, First Meetings, Getting Together, Jogger Derek, M/M, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Runner Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Stiles may have a problem. And it may have something to do with a certain hot jogger by the name of Derek Hale.





	running through my head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dearesthale (Kaonashiecho)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaonashiecho/gifts).



> for the prompt: Situation 2 + quote 15  
> Situation 2: 2. i’ve been checking you out every time i see you jogging at the park and oh no what are you doing why are you coming over here??  
> Quote 15: 15. “I thought this was going to be much easier than it actually is.”

Stiles may have had a problem.  _ May _ . And, of course, by  _ may _ he meant that he most definitely had a problem and it was progressively getting worse.

It had all started three months prior when he had started to frequent the local public park directly across the street from the sheriff's station where he usually ate lunch. With a gaping four hour hole between his morning history class and his afternoon forensics class, he had decided to start bringing his dad a salad or a veggie burger for lunch.

He always made sure that he spared a few minutes to snoop around his dad's office for any contraband junk food, checking every nook and cranny from between the couch cushions to under his dad's desk. He usually rooted out a few Twinkies, which he promptly threw into the trash can, and a couple packages of Reese's, which he always pocketed for himself.

It was only after he performed his search for junk food that he would hand over whatever lunch he had made for his old man who, without fail, rolled his eyes at him every time. The rest of the officers in the department thought it was hilarious. The Sheriff? Not so much. He just wanted to eat his candy bars in peace.

He always packed himself a lunch as well so he could sit and eat lunch with his dad, hoping to show some solidarity by eating whatever healthy meal his dad ate. Considering how high his dad's cholesterol levels and blood pressure was, he didn't want to tempt him by flaunting a nice juicy, beef burger in front of him while he munched on veggie burgers and carrot sticks.

They spent their time swapping stories about how their day had been so far, occasionally gossiping about who had gotten arrested for shoplifting or yet another DUI. Mrs. Martin was an incorrigible kleptomaniac and Mr. Lahey was the unofficial town drunk, the latter of which proving that the Sheriff was right to remove his sons from his custody a decade ago.

Deputy Graeme would occasionally poke her head in to inform the Sheriff that he had another conference to go to the following week or had a meeting with the mayor, but most of the time she darkened the doorway to tell them to stop gossiping. Stiles would just roll his eyes and ask how her daughter was doing at Berkeley, smiling innocently at the deputy until she cracked a smile and claimed her daughter was doing great.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and the half hour allotted for the Sheriff's lunch break eventually passed. And so, Stiles had to leave to let his dad get back to protecting and serving the good people of Beacon County.

Typically, after eating lunch with his dad, Stiles would simply walk across the street to the park, having roughly two and a half hours left to kill before his next class. He knew from experience that if he went home to relax before class, he would inevitably fall asleep and skip his class altogether.

It was a fate he would rather avoid since his dad wasn't spending thousands of dollars for him to nap. So instead, he would bring a book or a journal or a pair of headphones with him over to the park to help him pass the time until his next class.

His favorite spot was smack dab in the middle of the park, by the huge stone fountain that rose high above the surrounding rose bushes. Rainbows often flashed in the mist from the cascading water that bubbled placidly like some river out in the preserve, only serving to amplify the paradise-like feel of the fountain.

He would spend hours by the fountain, either sitting on the stone lip of the fountain or a bench nearby, letting the sound of the rushing water calm him down. To help the time pass more quickly, he would doodle in the margins of his psychology notebooks or listen to one of his various study playlists as he basked in the warm of the spring sun.

But as much as he loved the park itself and the fountain that had become his go-to spot for stress relief, there was only one reason why he kept coming back every day, even when he didn't have any classes. That distinct honor was one model gorgeous man whom Stiles only knew by the moniker he had given him: Hot Jogger.

He realized the name wasn't all that creative but no other name he had come up with had the same ring to it. Besides, what it lacked in originality it made up for in accuracy.

Because Hot Jogger was just that; the hottest jogger Stiles had ever seen in his entire life. And he had grown up watching Baywatch. (It was still considered a jog even if it was in slow motion, right?)

Hot Jogger was easily the most gorgeous person Stiles had ever seen with his dark, tousled hair that was almost artfully mussed and gorgeous eyes. He wasn't quite sure what color they were as Stiles had only admired him from afar, but they were dark and intense, set under a pair of thick black eyebrows.

His high cheekbones looked like they were carved in marble by the gods themselves, dusted with dark stubble that boasted a few tiny spots of silver under his chin. Speaking of his chin, he had a cleft in it that was partially covered by his stubble along with his dimples that made adorable indents in his cheeks when he smiled.

And what a smile he had. It was like watching the sun burst through a thicket of gray clouds when Hot Jogger smiled, his beautiful face becoming even more radiant than usual as his lips parted to reveal immaculately white bunny teeth.

Altogether, Hot Jogger looked like he should be modeling for some kind of high-end agency that had billboards plastered all over New York City and Los Angeles and Paris. And that was just because of his face, not to mention his body.

He was around Stiles' height, if anything an inch or two taller than him, but his physique was worlds away from Stiles'. Where Stiles was pale and lanky, he had the most beautiful sunkissed skin and a body that would make any porn star green with envy.

His upper body itself was a work of art, a fact that Stiles only knew because of Hot Jogger's apparent affinity for jogging without wearing a shirt. His shoulders were broad as was his chest that had a light sprinkling of dark hair over it, centered in the very middle of his chest.

A drool worthy trail of hair led down under his waistband from beneath his navel. It ran down over his washboard abs that redefined what a six pack should look like.

He had biceps that looked bigger than Stiles' head, though they weren't overly vascular in the way that many bodybuilders' were. His forearms were lightly haired, as were the backs of his hands that looked oddly gentle despite his intimidating stature.

His legs were masterpieces, as well, his calves well-defined and somewhat hairy, hairier than his arms at the very least. And his thick, muscular thighs looked capable of crushing a man's skull.

But what had really captivated Stiles was Hot Jogger's ass. It was easily the most glorious ass Stiles had ever seen in his twenty years of life, perfectly round and tight looking. Seriously, he was pretty sure that he could bounce a quarter off of that ass and he wanted to fucking  _ worship  _ it.

So, in all honesty, Hot Jogger was singlehandedly the only thing that consistently brought him back to the park. Besides lunch with his dad, of course.

Stiles had started coming to the park three months ago when his spring semester had officially commenced and he had once again become a slave to his school schedule. After sharing a Caesar salad with his dad who had loudly complained about Stiles not letting him have any dressing, Stiles had meandered over to the park.

He had taken a seat on a comfy wooden bench by the jogging path that twisted its way through the park, finding a nice spot in the early spring sunshine, a chill still in the air. He had been tugging a paperback novel out of his bag, glancing up at the sound of a dog barking, when he caught his first glimpse of Hot Jogger. His jaw had nearly fallen off.

Hot Jogger had been doubled over as he tied his running shoes, further along up the path. Normally someone tying their sneakers wouldn't have been very interesting to him but something else had caught his attention: the sight of a perfectly round ass straining against the black nylon of a pair of running shorts.

Stiles had been helpless to resist shamelessly ogling the man's backside, instantly ensnared by the thrall of a great ass. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he ended up actually drooling on himself as he stared. Especially since he wasn't the only one who had been staring.

The mere sight distracted middle aged soccer moms in their yoga pants and Uggs, interrupting their gossiping over Starbucks lattes. They completely ignored their kids who were tumbling around in the grass in favor of ogling the jogger's wondrous ass. Not that Stiles could blame them.

There was a gaggle of girls who looked to be high school aged, seemingly skipping class to go galavanting around town, chattering away about the most recent rumors plaguing the hallways of Beacon Hills High. They froze in their tracks when they noticed Hot Jogger's ass, their faces flushing as they giggled like little idiots.

Stiles had ignored both groups of women who gazed almost predatorily at the poor jogger who was just trying to tie his sneakers. Suddenly feeling guilty, Stiles had averted his eyes, trying to refocus on the book in his lap.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noticed the jogger straighten up and run a hand through his sweat damp black hair. It was then that he first saw the jogger's face and fell face first into a pathetic crush on the handsome stranger.

With high hopes of seeing the unworldly gorgeous jogger again, Stiles returned to the park the following week after eating lunch with the Sheriff. He wasn't disappointed.

Picking a different spot, this time by the fountain that would become his favorite place in the park, Stiles had doodled in one of his notebooks. He had absentmindedly drawn whatever came to mind, from the irises that grew along the jogging path to random nonsensical doodles, while keeping his eyes peeled for the hot jogger.

He hadn't been disappointed. A few minutes after arriving at the park, Stiles caught sight of Hot Jogger across the field, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

He had been wearing ear buds, his phone secured to his upper arm with a black armband that matched his black running shorts that even shorter than the ones he had been wearing the previous time Stiles had seen him. That time, his shorts only fell a little bit further than halfway down his thick thighs, showing off the amazing bulk of muscles that glistened with sweat.

As sure as he was that those thighs could kill someone, Stiles wanted to have them wrapped around his neck, even if it meant he might suffocate to death. He was about ten seconds away from starting a religion in the name of those thighs.

He was also about ten seconds away from coming in his pants. Especially when he just so happened to notice the fact that Hot Jogger wasn't wearing any underwear.

Needless to say, Stiles made sure he added 'go to the park' to his mental to-do list. He didn't always see Hot Jogger when he visited, which was a bit of a letdown, but reasonably he knew that the modern day Adonis had a life outside of jogging half naked around the park.

Unfortunately, today seemed to be one of the days when Hot Jogger was absent from the park.

Stiles had only had a morning class, his psychology lecture that started at eight a.m. sharp and dragged on for two hours, which gave him more time to cook lunch for his dad. He grilled some chicken breast and put it on some whole wheat bread with some tomato and avocado, wrapping it up along with a side of roasted veggies.

His dad had grunted and groaned when Stiles plopped his lunch down on his desk before starting his examination of the office. Unwrapping his sandwich, the Sheriff had insisted that he didn't have any contraband food in his office.

Stiles would have liked to believe his dad but he knew all about his father's predilection for junk food. He ended up finding a mini Reese's cup behind one of the picture frames on his dad's desk.

Feeling rather magnanimous, Stiles had simply sighed and handed the piece of candy over to the Sheriff. He firmly instructed his dad that he was only allowed the one piece, reminding John that he had no reservations about recruiting the rest of the sheriff's department to keep him from consuming any more junk food.

They chatted for awhile, about Stiles' psychology class and some of the calls his dad had gone on earlier, until the Sheriff's lunch break was over. With an extra skip in his step at the prospect of seeing Hot Jogger again, Stiles had made his way out of the station, saying his goodbyes to the deputies on duty.

Embarrassingly eager, Stiles jogged across the street to the park, seeking out a nice spot in the sun by the fountain. Not many people were around, the only others at the park a few elderly women on a bench, preoccupied by feeding some pigeons bird seed.

Stiles had expectantly glanced around a few times in search of Hot Jogger, hoping that he didn't look like some kind of weirdo. But Hot Jogger was nowhere to be found.

Admittedly, he was pretty disappointed, chewing his lip as he scanned his eyes over the park, paying special attention to the jogging path in hopes of seeing Hot Jogger stretching his legs or pausing for a drink of water. But he just shrugged and let out a small sigh, shifting his attention to his cellphone to check his email and his text messages.

He answered a text from Erica about going to a party over the weekend, informing her that he might drop by for a couple hours if nothing else came up. Scott had sent him a text to detail his most recent with Allison, summarizing the plot of the new romantic comedy they had seen. Stiles just replied to his message with a smiling emoji.

With nothing better to do other than go home and laze around watching TV while munching on his own hidden stash of junk food that he kept tucked in his underwear drawer, Stiles decided to linger in the park. It was a bit chilly, winter's frost still hanging over the little mountain town, which explained why park attendance was noticeably down.

Stiles didn't mind, wrapped up in a thick flannel over his Batman t-shirt, nice and cozy despite the cold breeze that rustled the still bare branches of the trees around the park. He considered walking over to the Starbucks situated at the corner for some hot chocolate, but he balked at both the length of the line and the exorbitant price.

Instead, he pulled up an app on his phone, passing some time playing Magikarp Jump. He was about to beat yet another league when something compelled him to look up from his screen.

Across the park, on the jogging path, was none other than Hot Jogger. The mere sight of him, running along the path in a t-shirt and pair of basketball shorts, made Stiles' heart race like he was some kind of Victorian maiden catching a glimpse of her favorite suitor.

Stiles quickly averted his eyes before Hot Jogger noticed him staring, getting caught much more likely without the usual throngs of people all about. He refocused on his game, feeding his Magikarp a couple more times.

But the tempting allure of Hot Jogger was too much for Stiles to resist for very long and he found himself stealing a few peeks over the top of his cellphone. Hot Jogger looked like he had only just begun his run, his hair still perfectly styled rather than messy and wet with sweat, his skin looking dry.

In the pale sunlight, he looked even more ethereal and angelic than usual, bathed in misty light as he jogged along the winding path. Stiles was mesmerized, forgetting all about the phone in his hand as he turned his full attention to the gorgeous god of a jogger.

He didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that he was staring which is why he suddenly became terrified when Hot Jogger turned his head to look directly at him, slowing his pace until he was no longer jogging.

Stiles' throat instantly tightened, making him feel like he was choking, panic clawing through his whole body. In a desperate, futile attempt to hide, Stiles lifted his phone and stared blankly at the screen, his Magikarp drifting aimlessly around its pond.

His mind raced, playing out all kinds of horrible scenarios. He hunched his shoulders and tried not to shudder at the possibility of his own father having to arrest him for some sort of public indecency charge.

Logically, he knew that ogling a jogger was just creepy, not criminal. But that didn't stop the ice cold dread that churned in his stomach at the thought that Hot Jogger was probably heading towards him to pummel his face into a bloody pulp.

"Hey," a voice greeted out of thin air, startling Stiles so much that he let out a loud, embarrassingly high-pitched squeal as he jumped, nearly dropping his phone. Wincing at his own humiliating flailing, Stiles raised his head to look around for the source of the voice.

He didn't have to look very far. Hot Jogger stood by his side, a warm smile brightening his face as he looked down at Stiles.

"Uh, do you mind if I sit here?" He asked politely, pointing a finger at the lip of the fountain to the right of where Stiles was sitting. He dropped his hand and waited for a few moments before scratching the back of his head, tacking on, "If you don't mind, of course."

"Uh, oh!" Stiles mumbled, shaking his head as he slowly processed Hot Jogger's words, belatedly realizing that he should probably respond. Scooting over a few inches, Stiles waved his hand in the general direction of where Hot Jogger had pointed, inviting, "Yeah, man, go for it."

Hot Jogger took a seat with a small sigh, running a hand through his hair as he did, mussing it until it looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Stiles tried not to notice how good it looked, keeping his eyes firmly planted on his shoes.

"I'm Derek, by the way," Hot Jogger announced, drawing Stiles' attention away from his dirty sneakers. Hot Jogger, or rather Derek, was smiling at him, his dimples visible beneath his dark stubble that was looking fuller than usual.

"Stiles," he responded, smiling back at Derek, desperately hoping that his smile didn't look too forced or fake. His smile became a little more genuine when he noticed the way that Derek's eyebrows furrowed at the sound of Stiles' name.

They fell into silence after the short introductions, awkwardness hanging in the air between them as they looked away from each other. Stiles twiddled his thumbs as he absentmindedly watched a tiny flock of birds hop around in the grass in search of hugs, beyond glad that Derek hadn't approached him to confront him about his creepy staring.

Before the thought had time to finish crossing his mind, Derek cleared his throat. Stiles froze, his thumbs pausing in midair as he braced himself for the worse.

"Um, so..." Derek started, scratching the back of his head again, Stiles noticing the motion out of the corner of his eye. He paused, swallowing heavily and licking his lips, before trying again, claiming, "I've been thinking, uh..."

He trailed off again with a frustrated sigh, piquing Stiles' curiosity. Stiles turned to look at Derek just in time to see him scrub a hand over his face as he muttered under his breath, "I don't know why, but I thought this was going to be much easier than it actually is."

"Everything alright, dude?" Stiles asked cautiously, the sight of Derek looking so distressed tugging at his heartstrings. He nibbled his lip as he threw caution to the wind and reached out to rest his hand on Derek's shoulder, squeezing gently.

It seemed to work reassuring Derek as he dropped his hand onto his lap and turned to face Stiles. Taking a deep breath, he blurted in one rush of air, "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Stiles had to blink a few times as he tried to process Derek's unexpected, unbelievable words. He opened his mouth a couple times, before closing it, having some trouble formulating a response. Finally, he just asked, "Uh, I'm sorry, what?"

Derek's face immediately fell. The corners of his lips turned down in disappointment, his eyebrows scrunching together.

Realizing that his question could be misconstrued as a harsh rejection, Stiles raised his palms as he desperately tried to correct himself, "Wait, that's not what I meant! I just... I wasn't expecting it."

"Well, it's just that I've seen you around the park for the last few months," Derek explained, keeping his eyes down as he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, showing off a flash of his abs. He was adorably flustered, a flash of red coloring his cheeks as he scratched his chin, reminding Stiles of a shy little puppy who wasn't sure if they are allowed on the couch or not.

"I've been thinking about asking you out for awhile," Derek claimed, a small deprecating smile twisting up the corner of his lips. "But I too nervous. My sister finally told to just ask you already."

"Your sister sounds pretty smart," Stiles remarked with a wide grin, shifting to sit a few centimeters closer to Derek.

"Yeah, she really is," Derek confirmed, nodding sagely. A proud smile stretching across his face, he commented, "Graduated top of her class at Harvard. She— Oh, wait—" he sharply raised his head to look at Stiles incredulously "—Do you mean... You actually wanna go on a date with me?"

Stiles nodded, laying his hand on top of Derek's. Feeling a red blush fill his own face, Stiles smiled up at Derek, trying to figure out a way to tell him about the little problem he had, about his habit of watching a specific hot jogger.

Then again, maybe it wasn't a problem. After all, it had gotten him a date with a veritable Greek god.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here!](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)


End file.
